There But For The Grace Of God
by JetNoir
Summary: The epic novelisation of the fantastic videogame. Not a very good summary, but please humour me! Permanant Hiatus.


**Final Fantasy VIII**

**THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF GOD**

**a novelisation of the videogame by JetNoir**

"Ernest Hemingway once wrote: 'The world is a fine place, and worth fighting for.' I agree with the second part." – SE7EN

PROLOGUE

A dream in the night.

Figures lay sprawled out, hidden deep under the world, shadowy figures: incorporeal wisps of shadow. They are dreamers, and they are ever dreaming. Deeper and deeper they fall into a dark eternity, fuelled by their hatred for the world, their lust for power, and their desire to rule. They are the chosen of God, or rather, in this world: Hyne.

Her seeds.

Hyne's children have been chosen, for they are the only ones to hold the power: a power that has the ability to shape this world and make it whole again; or, destroy it, for all eternity.

The cracks of the power are beginning to show, as are the cracks of the world and of the countries that lie on its surface.

If something is not soon done; then none will survive the holocaust to come.

* * *

Waves roll softly onto a beach. The sun beats down hot, as a small group of brown leaves are scattered in the wind, and blown across to the four corners of the world.

_"I'll be here..."_

"Why...?"

Somewhere, somehow, the leaves blow quickly over an acrid desert, speeding ever onward to their final destination.

_"I'll be 'waiting'...here..."_

"For what?"

Finally the leaves, come to a large field, filled with flowers, as far as the eye can see. In the middle stands a young girl, with long black-hair, and dark-brown eyes. She is wearing a black top, black leggings, and a long blue duster.

_"If you come here..."_

_ "You'll find me..."_

"_I promise..."_

She pauses and turns her beautiful head to the sun, savouring its warmth, and with eyes closed reaches out, and grasps one of the leaves that have travelled so far. Petals fly past her face as with a little concentration, she opens her hand, and a glowing feather emerges. She releases it and it flies freely into the darkening sky. It disappears into the clouds, and as lightning strikes, a strange weapon falls quickly from the sky, a shimmering blade, that tumbles end over end, in an endless circle of death; a slow and dangerous dance.

A man runs forward – named Squall Leonheart – and claims the sword. As he pulls it from the ground, a metal necklace spills out, a necklace of the quasi-mythical Griever. He turns with the sword, and faces his opponent – another man, called Seifer Almasy – who is wielding his own weapon. These weapons, called Gunblades, are very rare, due to their difficult use in battle.

Squall pulls his Gunblade up to strike, and white feathers fly across his face. He frowns a moment – in his minds eye, he can see a strange vision. A beautiful woman trapped with another woman, wearing a mask shaped like a bird. She walks through a _wall_.

With a grunt, and a shake of head Squall dispels the strange vision, and rushes forward to meet blonde-haired Seifer's charge. Metal clangs against metal in a harsh symphony of pain. Seifer smiles slyly, a stark contrast to the concerned look on Squalls own face.

Seifer spins around and swings his gunblade, while Squall raises his and blocks it. Seifer pulls away and the two continue to try and knock the other's weapon away.

Squall swings, but misses, so Seifer uses his free hand to beckon Squall, taunting him.

The fight continues, blood drawn from neither. Sparks fly when the blades collide again and again.

The vision continues, unchecked. Seifer at a parade, Squall is unsure where, then the woman with the bird mask at the same place.

Squall begins to fight, more wildly than before. He attacks Seifer again, and again, though all attempts are blocked, they knock Seifer back.

Seifer then knocks Squall's gunblade out of his hands, and aims for his head, but Squall ducks at the last minute and retrieves his weapon. Squall spins the weapon and charged forward, but with a sneer, Seifer casts a FIRE spell, flames knocking Squall to the floor. Squall tries to get up, but he is too slow – for Seifer's blade connects with Squalls forehead, and his blood splatters from the slash to the ground in two crescents.

Squall looks up, anger and crimson staining his face. He stands, his foot sliding along the ground; pulling his gunblade, making sparks as it scrapes along the ground.

The steel strikes Seifer's own brow, as both figures are consumed by a flurry of black feathers.

The beautiful woman is there, ready to embrace Squall, and as there bodies meld against the other, Squall knows in his heart, in his soul, that this is somehow _right_.

It is almost as if it is meant to be...

And as Squall Leonheart wakes out of the strange dream, to the clinical realities of the Infirmary, he is struck by a strange thought.

* * *

It is never what we are.

Merely what we can be.

* * *

**Note: **Not quite sure what anyone will think of this, but I hope you enjoyed it, and please review!

**Disclaimer: **All the characters are copyright to Squaresoft; and the story to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!

**JetNoir**


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